She had stopped humming from the hallway, and he thought he'd heard her call his name.
"Yeah? What is it?" No response. He set the box down on kitchen table and went to investigate.
"Did you call...?" He froze.
At first he couldn't parse the situation, experiencing it in disparate fragments.
The cardboard boxes stacked against the hallway wall. The long fingers of her hands placed on the floor in front of her.
Her brown hair, put into a neat ponytail disappearing into the hood of her bright red hoodie. The hem of her white T-shirt barely visible underneath.
Her white underwear, stretched, digging into her thighs. Cupboards open, contents halfway emptied.
Her blue jeans, pulled down to her knees. Light from the windows, oblique, tracing orange streaks across the floor and across her legs.
Her white socks, soles turned up and slightly gray from walking on the dirty floors. Her naked heart-shaped butt, the hint of her labia just barely visible beneath.
Then the disparate pieces snapped into a complete picture. She was the only one of his friends who had been able to help him move on such short notice. She had been busy packing up the hallway. Except now she had pulled down her pants and was standing on all fours, facing away from him and presenting him with her rear. Round butt and thighs seemingly incongruous with her slender upper body, as if belonging to slightly different women.
She said nothing, expecting him to take the hint.
He felt the familiar twitch in his pants. They had been spending a lot of time together lately, and the sexual tension had been, at least on his part, pretty intense. A lot of stolen looks when he hoped she hadn't been watching.
Had she been checking him out in turn? Maybe. But he wasn't usually one to take chances.
His heart was pounding as he moved towards her, fingers trembling as he tentatively placed a hand on her butt, faint stretch marks barely visible against the pale skin. He felt an electric tingle as his fingertips touched her skin. In response she pressed herself against him, giggling softly.
After a quick struggle with belt and buttons, he pulled down his own pants, gently rubbing his erection against against her folds.
"You're really wet. How long have you been thinking about...?" His breath caught as she shifted her weight, grabbed his cock and pushed herself onto it, wet and warm, then she was on all fours again, waiting.
His hands slid up, along her waist, the fabric of her shirt tickling his fingertips, then back, finding the satisfying solid grip of her hip bones. Her breath caught almost imperceptibly as he gently pulled himself completely inside.
As they continued, slowly at first, her breath grew more labored, the sounds of him entering her wetter.
"Harder." Her voice was low, but strained. The only words she had spoken so far.
He stopped, digging his fingers deeper into her skin, smiling as she gasped for breath in anticipation. He let the moment draw out, felt her shiver as he slid the fingers of one hand along her back, under her shirt, the metal clasp of her bra cold against his fingertips, then gently dragged his fingernails along her skin, finding a new grip on her hips.
Her yelp was almost a scream when he pulled himself inside, hard as he could before continuing, as gently as before. He could smell her wetness now, replacing the flowery scent of her perfume. Noises escaping her as he entered her hard again, then slow. Hard, then slow.
She lifted her right hand off the floor, extending it towards him, wiggling her fingers. He grabbed it, fingertips again tingling as they touched her skin. Tightening his grip on her bony wrist, he pulled himself inside her with a jerk, again forcing a gasp out of her.
Leaning forwards, he grabbed her left wrist, pulling her up as he leaned back.
They kept going, hard now. Her nails digging into his forearms, strength belying her delicate fingers. Her smell still intensifying, her struggles to control her breathing increasingly failing. Exposed skin rippling, each thrust making a wet, slapping, noise.
"Harder." this time it was almost a whisper through clenched teeth.
His moved her wrists, pushing them against the small of her back, locking her arms in place, her fingers splayed towards him, her elbows poking out. He reached to grab her hair, but lost his grip and for a panicked moment she squealed, fell forward, scrambling to get her ams free to break her fall, grabbing onto a cardboard box, contents spilling out in a cacophony of noise.
His heart was racing, but for all the wrong reasons. "I'm so sorry! You OK?". He felt himself threatening to go limp inside her, only a panicked last-minute grip of her hips kept him from sliding out, and her from falling face-first onto the floor.
